Behind the mask
by MiapAndaPen
Summary: Oliver Before, during and after knowing the nogitsune
1. Before

The screams started again that night, echoing through the walls like a haunting melody. She didn't even bother jog knowing that what she'd find would be no different from what it was yesterday or what it will be tomorrow, nerve wracking sure, but it was her job.

When she finally made it to the corridor, the shouting stopped; as if the patient had sensed her presence, but she was too experienced to fall for the calm, silence that usually precedes the storm. She was right. A moment later, patients from different rooms started communicating through an identical sourceless rhythm of shouts.

The sounds were never something to frighten Nurse Fitch, ever. It was the silence that always did. She continued her pace through the patients' rooms, finding comfort in the noise, the doors were locked on bed time and it was strictly forbidden to open any of them only in the case of a Monday, which would be tomorrow: the day of suicides. The suicides gave her another reason to hate Mondays. Dead bodies left and right was definitely not a highlight for Nurse Fitch.

When she finally reached the first cell, where all the shouting started -and was now strangely calm- her hand dared to the small window on the top, trying to see. Midnight and a second was still Monday, she had the right to peek in. Not that she didn't do that on any other day of the week, she even talked to some patients until they fell asleep; when it became too dark to see, she always made sure there was someone they could listen to, and could listen to them in return.

Her hand was hesitating and before it opened in a definitive gesture she realised that a strange calmness had suddenly reigned without her taking notice, the shouting stopped and her breathing did as well.

"Shh" a voice whispered from the other side of the door, too close to where the nurse was standing, she couldn't help but flinch a bit.

"don't be afraid," he followed, tonelessly. "I'm just trying to... eat you face"

The words echoed down the halls, the doors and the walls. She thought running for her life before whoever that was put his threat into action or simply-

Her hand reacted in courage unlike her trembling body as she opened the window in one firm act, the rusty metal made a sound that also echoed revealing to her some kind of horror.

Two brown eyes pierced into her own, wide with surprise that he was caught off guard. He was waiting for her to react but she was too paralysed with shock to do so. With that, the patient decided she didn't deserve his attention and instead banged something that made a heavy impact against the metal door causing her to jump before realizing that she was initially safe, and that it was the patient's poor roommate that she had to worry about. And that's when she decided to move.

That night, Oliver was put under the institution's five points restraint system, and so he was every night because he tried eating his roommate's face -as he claimed- arguing that it was delicious, just like his nails. The victim, miraculously saved never became his roommate or anyone's ever again, since he ended up... hanging like a ragdoll, feet dangling limbs flailing and neck stuck to the ceiling.

In one word: Dead.

._._._.

As the rule goes in Eichen House (one that patients don't know about) every patient who starts showing signs of -some long word pronounced- supernaturalness can and will be questioned by the institution's therapist: Marin Morrell, then with her permission is moved to the 'other part' of the institution, where he would be kept in an individual cell and uhm- well, run a few tests, survive a few torture sessions and... the usual for any creature that was forsaken enough to end up in that finely designed hell hole.

So as the rule says we apply, our patient had to run the test of doom, and if Oliver noticed the slightly out of context, subtly weird questions, he didn't say anything about it.

"Any strange urges lately?" He blinks "biting, hurting people, blood lust?"

"No." Oliver lies, even though the question is a little foreign to him, he's never being really violent... except maybe last night's slip up (which was really uncalled for) oh or the first night! the first night was really bad...

"Dental problems?" she continues, he laughs.

"I brush my teeth three times a day."

"Just making sure." she smiled tightly, checking NO. "Anything new with the sketchbook?" And there, we're back to normal again, Oliver has a sketchbook, he uses it to sketch, very rarely, when he doesn't sketch he glares at the ceiling, since the restraint system, he cannot sketch at night, but he's free when it's day, so Oliver takes advantage and doesn't sketch either.

"wow, you almost finished it!" Morrell exclaims, turning the blackened papers with smudged ink.

Oh.

"wow" he repeats "when?" this seems to catch her attention:

"You don't know." she tilts her head to the side, not waiting for an answer.

"No." And that's when she ticks YES, but eight NOs against one YES won't hurt, he's not a monster after all.

Not yet

._._._.

All the days that follow, Oliver spends them begging for company, even Dan -who thinks he's Jesus- doesn't want to talk to him; he gets sad and desperate.

So he seeks help, from nurse Fitch, who only shoots an understanding sympathetic smile and gives empty promises, she talks to him sometimes and that feels good, but he needs more than just the company of her voice at night, or her reassuring smiles in the morning.

"Miss Morrell?" he stops her at a corridor, she turns around and calmly replies:

"Yes Oliver."

"I was wondering, since, my last roommate uh, killed himself." she nods "could I maybe, get another roommate?"

"A roommate?" she echoes curiously.

"Yes, a roommate" he smiles, hoping really hard for the answer to be a yes.

"I'm not sure they'll-"

"Please I'll do anything!" He cuts off, because he knows all too well how rejections start, and that one statement could only end in a negation "please" he begs, willing the words he's spent all night rehearsing to come out, they do in a look when she studies his face for a moment.

That moment was everything.

Morell nods and walks away, Oliver dances in excitement because he knows that's a yes.

._._._.

That night, Oliver is happy for once, and he hasn't been happy since forever:

"I will have a roommate, I will have a roommate..." Repeatedly and incessantly in that annoying tune kids use to mock each other, as if he's mocking fate for both doubting him and making him miserable, even just for a little while, and that is the song that echoes down the halls and jumps all over the walls for the rest of the night.

Oliver laughs and laughs until he runs out of breath then eventually chokes for a few minutes; as always happiness turns to misfortune, and somehow a small targeted fly got caught up in the middle of it.

._._._.

The following day is plain, and the main reason Oliver doesn't complain is because he's waiting, night comes fast and he doesn't even struggle against his restrainers. Finally: the door opens, light seeps in, he looks up when someone walks in.

"I'm Oliver." He rushes.

"Stiles."

He doesn't sleep and doesn't talk much but he's Oliver's new roommate. He has to show him around tomorrow...


	2. During

"You've lost your family, and no one wants to be your friend, isn't that right, Oliver?"

Oliver searched for the strange voice in several failed attempts, it wasn't exactly mocking but the way it was so unfamiliar yet completely at ease with addressing his personal issues stirred his curiosity and shocked him with fear, so he was desperate to see a face.

But it was so dark that he could barely make out shapes and walls, it kind of looked like a basement at night.

It wasn't until he tried to move that he realized that he was paralyzed with fear, even voices wouldn't come out when he attempted to speak, so he tried nodding in hope that the voice speaking to him could see him, even if he couldn't see it.

"I know what you _truly_ want" Oliver couldn't see yet, but he felt it, felt the the breath to the left, just behind him, heard the voice inch closer and couldn't help the shiver that racked his entire body.

If he could speak, he would've screamed. Then again, maybe someone would come to his rescue if he did.

Or maybe not.

"Your dream will come true, if you _just_ do this"

It spoke as if it knew that Oliver really had only one dream.

Then surprisingly, the lights were on and it was like travelling to another world, a world where he had a plan in mind, and friends to help escape, a plan where he was sneaky and scary and selfish, a world where he nearly killed but never got killed.

"It's either this"

Or he got killed, so brutally, so violently that there was nothing left but the walking talking corpse of him after the kill, there was no blood involved, not a single drop, because that would've been easier.

What was left instead was an Oliver than lived in Eichen House and never really got better, an Oliver that never saw the light of day outside the facility, an Oliver that wallowed in self pity because he had no friends, no family and no one to care about him.

Because Oliver was lonely, and loneliness was _dangerous_.

So he made his decision.

Then he woke up.

._._._.

All that was left of it in the morning were snippets and feelings and schemes.

Oliver didn't know for how long Stiles would still be his roommate so he made sure to follow him around all day, using the showing him around as an excuse, he began introducing him to most of his friends, some acquaintances as well then he told him about the structure of the place and general rules and regulations that he had to follow.

As he did so, Oliver noticed that Stiles was restless, even more restless than himself and about three people who were convinced they weren't Jesus Christ combined (as the other ones were pretty calm) and that he had a hard time sitting in one place without either moving around or asking him questions about the facility; he sounded pretty irritated when Oliver made the remark of that and his answer was a short breath then:

"This place isn't safe."

"don't say that" Oliver jumped in and just as he was about to catch up to Stiles, he started walking away again, Oliver then jogged faster and spoke louder:

"this place is safe for everyone, you'd be surprised how many serial killers tried and couldn't escape"

Stiles stopped walking again to properly glare at him, Oliver stopped mid jog and waited, holding his breath as he did so, _what did he say that was so wrong? why did he have to ruin it like that?! God it was so perfect, he ruined everything_.

"Not really." was all Stiles said, Oliver stopped biting the flesh around his fingernails and they started walking again in tense silence.

._.._._.

Their interactions kept being limited to giving information and Oliver refused to admit that he hated it, especially after he realized that Stiles knew Malia from before the facility, which only proved how little they had in common, because when Oliver came in he was completely alone and lonely and scared (and up until now he still is), unlike Stiles who knew people, and hated him... and wanted to escape, which only meant they could never be friends.

But again, Oliver refused to admit it to himself.

It was just like in his dream, he just had to do what his inner... monologue was telling him to, or maybe it was god finally seeing to him and guiding him to a world of light because his brain was way too limited to think of such a detailed plan, or was he not giving himself enough credit?

Whatever it is, he'll do it just like in the dream and hope for the best, sometimes it didn't feel like he had much choice at all when the words escaped his mouth before he allowed them to, it's almost like the fly he'd swallowed earlier was scraping the inside of his throat whenever it didn't approve of something, almost demanding to voice its thoughts, as if it had any thoughts at all.

But that'd just be silly, wouldn't it?

._._._.

Stiles stopped rejecting him when he saw that he could be of actual help and that made Oliver feel at more ease somehow; for the first time in forever, Oliver was helping someone... and probably unintentionally... getting help in return.

"So, what happened?" he couldn't help but ask, because Stiles seemed normal enough, just like him, then maybe they were in here for the same reason, maybe they had more in common than they knew about?

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him and he clarified:

"Uhm, why are you here?" he almost immediately noticed the shift, and how for the first time since they met, he succeeded in making Stiles just as uncomfortable and awkward as he felt, he looked down, nervously rubbed his neck before finally answering:

"I uh- did some very... bad things to other people."

Oliver almost felt bad for asking, but he somehow also felt that Stiles owed him a few answers just for being his roommate, even if only for a day now.

Oliver didn't exactly do bad things, Morrell was with him on that.

"What kind of bad things?" he asked anyway, noticing how Stiles shifted again, looking even more uncomfortable than before.

"the kind of bad things that'd get you into Eichen House but not jail, how's that for an answer, huh?" the layer of irritation and anger was now so visible across his face that Oliver mentally smacked himself for not noticing earlier, but before he got the chance to answer or apologize, Stiles was already walking away, making the bathroom his excuse.

Oliver sat on the bench and contemplated not going with the plan, but then his brain suddenly started pulling sirens and flags and all sorts of things that induced a sense of urgency to just _do_.

 _Now or never,_ it insisted.

Oliver obeyed, hoping it wouldn't go as far as it did in his dream.

._._._.

As it turned out, things did go just as bad as they did in his dream because the next thing he knew, Oliver was stealing things, sneaking up on people and hurting said people... he even hurt Stiles!

At least he wasn't alone though, the voice accompanied him through most of his journey, both guiding and encouraging. He even got to see the face!

So it wasn't just a dream!

But it also wasn't god, not the fly neither as he spat it out earlier and certainly not him.

It was _Stiles_ the whole time! Oliver couldn't really comprehend how the same mind could live in two different bodies, but they mostly acted the same way around him, except that they sometimes contradicted one another, for instance, while one of them told him _not_ to hurt Malia, the other one demanded that he did just that, neither of them begged though, they _never_ did.

They either ordered of demanded.

And as he usually did, Oliver obeyed.

Almost drilling a hole into Malia's head until he was told not to by the same person who told him to.

Oliver stopped, and so did his breathing for these brief moments.

Fireflies danced around in his stomach, and his own heartbeat pounded in his ears like a child on a broken rollercoaster.

What was next?

A figment of hope suddenly ignited in his chest as he watched them slowly approach, their expression undescribable, unreadable.

Was this a warm embrace? A pat on the back? A smile? A nod?

Or was it the cold hard floor of the basement and the sinking feeling in his chest?

._._._.

Oliver woke up and it was immediately and indubitably apparent that he was facing -no, _living_ \- the second option. The tightening in his chest felt far worse than it did back in his dream (or should it be called nightmare now?) and he started feeling physically sick.

He also realized that rubbing his temples wasn't going to make the headache go away, Oliver focused on his surroundings and noticed that there was someone else in the room with him, the brown haired girl: Malia; she was rubbing at her wrists, they were probably sore now.

Malia suddenly turned to him, as if sensing his presence at the same time he did hers. Oliver felt the urgent need to apologize, he did try to kill her after all, but out of fear that she would leave at any moment, disappear as his hopes and dreams did and also lack of better wording, all that came out was an awkward:

"I'm sorry for t-trying to kill you back then, I- I didn't know what came over me!" his stuttered say in a mess of words was somehow comprehensible to the other girl and he could've sworn he'd heard a sourceless growl.

Malia's expression spelled the word fury, so clearly that he felt compelled to look away.

Wasn't he just betrayed? Or did he just betray his potential friends? _Dearest_ friends.

Malia's next words weren't something easy to forget, and after that night, he never truly forgot them; they just kind of haunted him, like the uncertainty of whether that day ever really happened or if Stiles existed at all anymore. Usually, words never really affected him, but somehow, coming from someone just as normal as he was felt different.

This isn't Hilary (Jesus Christ) who's talking to him, so it kind of might be true.

Or it _must_ be true, since they almost became friends, right?

"Why do you guys keep saying sorry when you don't really mean it?!" She said, Oliver didn't even have time to think of that before she added "if Stiles dies after this, it's because of you." she stormed off after that, not noticing or not caring about the tears that blurred his vision, all he saw was deep dark blue, and nausea surfaced.

Reality then hit him like a fire truck:

That he was sitting completely alone on the floor of the cold dark basement of Eichen House and that all it took was a day for his reality to get turned so completely upside down that he doubted the significance of his existence, again.

Though the fire still burned incessantly in his chest, all the way up to his throat, he only threw up once, but he didn't stop crying; the ugly tears that never stopped coming, waterworks of pity and shame ate at him, clawed at his brain like a wild animal.

And _yet._..

Oliver found himself not seeking revenge at all, he was not strong or capable enough to stand against them; they knew him far too well, knew him just as he knew himself, or maybe a bit more than that, they could destroy his life just as they could rebuild it again.

They had the power he didn't have, the knowledge he lacked and most importantly: the _company_ he so dearly craved.

Oliver wiped his tears with some bandages that were lying around, it was so dark in this basement and it smelled so bad but the place somehow held emotional significance for him now, and he wanted to lie on the ground for as long as he could.

Nevermind Brunski's beating, or the restraint system... nevermind anything anymore.


	3. After

**Trigger warning: suicide .**

 **Also, any them/they in italics refers to Stiles+Nogitsune**

* * *

Oliver tried everything, but nothing worked.

He tried getting over the issue that was clearly ruining his life, or ignoring it but it always backfired and he ended up thinking more about it, it got to the point where he developed an uncontrollable obsession with flies. Oliver became obsessed with them, collected them, aligned them, admired them then ate them religiously. And hoped with each one choked down that he would once again, meet _them_. Because he realized that it was the first unusual thing that has happened to him before he met Stiles, so it was only logical that he could meet him again if he managed to successfully recreate all of that night's events!

He couldn't get a roommate though, for some reason neither Nurse Fitch nor Miss Morrell agreed to allowing him another one, taking for excuse the one he tried to attack. "But I never attacked Stiles!" he so desperately tried to argue against them with no avail because they answered with "you attacked Malia _and_ you broke into the basement!" to which he had no reasonable explanation for.

Miss Morrell noticed that he stopped using his sketchbook and when she asked him about it, he gave a brief speech about him taking over a new secret hobby, he was careful to being vague, then also thankful because Morrell only pushed him once, and they've long since established that he didn't respond well to pressure.

He also tried blending in with the other patients, trying to convince someone, anyone into becoming his roommate, or at least his friend, but the fact that most of them firmly believed that they were Jesus Christ or hated him truly didn't help.

Oliver asked miss Morrell and Malia (though the latter never forgave him) about whether or not Stiles was still alive and to say he cried for most of the night for learning that he was just saying the cold hard truth. It wasn't even a Monday and he already wanted to die.

He tried everything he could to cope and yet nothing worked in keeping him sane and grounded just enough for Stiles to come back.

Because Stiles never came back. Not even to visit.

And Oliver knew that he was very alive, somewhere outside of the facility, with his friends and family, being all happy and cheerful, probably completely forgetting his existence.

Stiles might forget, but Oliver knew that _they_ wouldn't. _They_ would never...

They promised!

But then again, _they_ weren't here either were they? It was just Oliver, and the tiny countable steps that separated him for meeting death from the asylum's rooftop, where the stars gazed down at him sadly and the air suddenly became heavy.

Oliver realized with great difficulty of breathing that he could die even if he didn't physically jump, if the wind gave him a playful push, or if his clumsiness started to act out or if he just twitched in the slightest way he could fall and he would die even if he didn't want to.

But... he did want to, right? Otherwise he wouldn't be standing here contemplating the jump, wouldn't have planned the whole escape through the roof plan, or the alternative plan, if he doesn't die that is...

Now that he stood on the brink of his world, just a slip would be his death.

Part of him wanted to just stand there and wait for a year or two until they appeared to save him and take him away.

Another part fiercely argued and demanded for some dignity to shine through, how more pathetic can one get until it was too much?

Oliver opened his teary eyes and forced them again to look up at the star riddled sky above, he thought of all the people that would miss him.

How would they react?

He was gonna fall, he could feel himself swaying ever so slightly over the edge, he expected it to be quick after that but thought about others nevertheless.

All the Jesuses would try to revive him, it should be a funny thought, that his death would bring back the sanity to many others once they realize that they're not Jesus, as if he's insanity in itself, but it isn't.

Nurse Fitch would look after his fly collection (after he tells her that it's down in the basement) and bring in another patient to replace him, he would wear his clothes, sleep in his place and hang out with the other patients but he will never know what truly happened. And if they ever came back, that patient would not be chosen because Oliver was the only one fit for that quest; they didn't choose Mary, they didn't choose Brunski, or Morell or Nurse Fitch. They chose Oliver!

And maybe this is his revenge after all, he's letting _them_ down though, wouldn't _they_ be angry? would he care?

what a hilarious question, of course he would!

Isn't he just dying for _them_? Isn't he dying because he cannot see _them_ again?!

But... Oliver realized in shock that death really wasn't supposed to take that long.

He wasn't dying anymore.

He wasn't falling, he's still on the roof. He's alive!

There was warmth in his chest, relief, because the thought of cutting his train of thoughts by a single jump seemed terrifying, he wanted to hug whoever was holding him right now, even if it was Brunski. Even if he knew how empty he'll feel afterwards, the moment was to cherish.

"Hi Oliver."

Oliver turned around so violently he started feeling light headed afterwards, when his vision focused he saw the best thing his eyes could have ever witnessed that night.

It- Stiles... _them_!

"Come with me." He said and Oliver didn't hesitate one bit.

They walked out through the front door, passing guards and doctors in different stages of death, Oliver saw people who refused to help him on the floor, he heard cries of help as well but wasn't he just about to die himself?

They walked for a while after that, Eichen House now far behind, Oliver tried to start conversations that got shut down quickly until they reached an isolated area where they stopped.

"Dan, Hilary, Miss Morrell... Nurse Fitch..."

The lake would've been a beautiful scene to watch this time at night, that is if they weren't standing there in the middle of the night, while it was too cold to not wear a coat, and while Oliver listened in fear and anticipation to Stiles, who looked and sounded so much older than his appearance would suggest, and it was so much _them_ and not Stiles alone that it made Oliver relax a bit, though not completely yet.

"Do you consider them your friends?" he asked, curiosity just a pinch in his tone, the rest was challenge, or mockery, Oliver preferred challenge because he knows that he's no challenge.

"Y-Yes" he stuttered, mostly from the cold but he couldn't deny he was still afraid.

"And friends do that to each other?" He continued, Oliver's teeth started chattering faster.

"N-No."

"Then they aren't your friends, kono kichigai. They're just imposters." He said matter of fact.

"They... are?" Oliver asked, unsure.

"Yes."

"Now, Oliver" they slowly paced around him, Oliver fought the urge to follow him with his eyes "Do you really want to be free? to never be lonely anymore? to... be powerful?"

"Yes." He answered almost immediately because he has never been more sure of anything more than this in his entire life.

"Then I will make it come true." Stiles nodded mostly to himself.

"H-how?" he stuttered again, hesitation sticking to him like a shadow.

"Satsui no hado" they swished it like a secret against his ear. Oliver unwillingly flinched.

"sit down."

Oliver did, the mud was wet and he realized that it had started raining for sometime now.

Stiles knelt beside him.

"We'll see how much you really want that." and with that he ducked his head into the water.

At first, he fought. He fought because it stang a bit like betrayal, like someone else had let him down, like after all this time he still meant nothing to _them_.

But then, as the urge to breathe became stronger, and Oliver became weaker, those feelings soon subsided, as if realizing that his lungs' need for air was stronger than any temporary emotion.

It was interesting, how priorities changed so quickly.

 _Let's see how bad you really want it._

He wants it so bad, he'd do anything not to come back to his older life, to that rat hole he once considered home, no one really liked him there, not like _them_. He was willing to kill anyone, anything right now just to not go back in there.

He would do so much more than kill to not be lonely again.

That's when excuses didn't matter anymore.

He was dying and freezing in a lake?

He wasn't strong enough?

It didn't matter anymore, Oliver started fighting again, but this time he was driven with so much more than instinct or a simple emotion.

He fought harder than he'd ever done, he didn't care that water was now filling most of his lungs, how he couldn't hear anything anymore or how violently his arms thrashed. All he cared about was _winning_.

A few seconds before the windows to his soul shut down, he was pulled up, he thrashed a bit more before finally giving up.

What was going on?

As he rested on the mud that was now gold in his eyes, and wheezed so violently his chest hurt, _they_ spoke to him in what sounded a lot like victory:

"You'll be powerful."

And it happened.

When Oliver finally gave in to the darkness he became someone new.

Or rather... something new.

An Oni with a sword, a soldier for his lord, he needn't fear the darkness no more for he controlled the shadows around him and could see through the souls of others, except -of course- for his master, the one he served, the one who was always so kind for keeping him company, he could teleport anywhere at any moment and was ready to fight to death for every second of his waking, though he developed a cold detachment from the world in general, lost some of his enthusiasm for living but change always came with a price, didn't it?

There were others like him as well, other oni, Oliver often wondered what their story might be, and if they looked like him behind their masks, just innocent teenagers that were once so lost and lonely, but now hid behind the mask of demons of destruction.

He once had the audacity to take off the mask for one of them. To uncover the truth, to know what really hid there and why it it did, but it was empty.

There was no one there.

Oliver then... understood, he put the mask gently back on and reveled in the way he didn't even feel sad anymore.

He just understood.


End file.
